


An Unexpected Song

by scarletalphabet



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by Music, Making Out, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletalphabet/pseuds/scarletalphabet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ducking down into the lair for a punching bag break, Sara comes across an unusual sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Song

**Author's Note:**

> Fic is on the lower end of the rating. Takes place in Season 2 but ignoring Oliver/Sara. Inspired by Postmodern Jukebox's cover of Jason Derulo's Talk Dirty to Me. It's fabulous, Google it.

Sara ducked down behind the bar, busying her hands with searching for another bottle of Jack. She used the brief respite to take several deep, calming breaths. Her right hand's grip on the shelf kept her from falling over as she rocked back on her heels. For some reason tonight's crowd, while not particularly large, was unusually obnoxious. Changing their drink orders halfway through, offhand comments about “that bartender chick” right in front of her as though she had neither ears nor feelings, and throwing bills at her like she was a two-bit stripper. She didn't begrudge anyone for what they did to earn enough money to survive (as long as they weren't hurting anyone), but the denigrating attitude of the patrons prevailed. She'd seen worse of course, but the sheer lack of basic human decency that Verdant's patrons were displaying was astounding. One guy in particular thought that he could sweet talk her into getting him free drinks and was getting progressively angrier with each failure. She could handle him in her sleep, but the fact that her hand kept involuntarily straying towards the knife in her pocket told her that stepping out of the scene for a moment would be a smart idea.

Sara heard the soft footfalls of booted feet make their way over to her. “How are you doing over here?” a voice called.

“Sorry, Thea,” Sara replied, rifling through the bottles in an attempt to look busy. “I'll get back to drinks in a minute.”

“That—Wait, how did you know it was me?” Thea asked.

Sara shrugged, still looking at the shelf. “You don't have Roy's heavy gait,” she explained. “The bouncers don't usually come back here, though the same goes for them. Neither Rachel nor Damian are wearing boots tonight.”

“Okay, well you're more observant than I thought,” Thea acknowledged, a note of suspicion in her voice. “In any case, that's not what I asked. I asked how are you doing.” Sara heard the rustle of Thea's hands waving around. “And you can drop the whole 'trying to find something' act,” Thea added. “I'm not going to fire you for being a human being.”

Sara looked up, shaking her head. She was getting a bit soft if that was the only excuse she could think of. The shelves weren't nearly packed or disorganized enough to warrant such a search. “Guilty as charged,” she said with a smile, standing up once she saw that no one else was paying attention.

“Look,” Thea said, holding Sara's gaze as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “If anyone's bothering you...well bouncers aren't just there to look pretty.”

Sara felt a wave of something akin to sisterly affection from and for Thea. While her relationship with her own sister was still under repair, having a little sister watching out for her wasn't necessarily a bad thing. At least Thea wouldn't push too far in the name of knowing what was best for her. “Don't let Roy hear you say that,” she joked, this time her smile genuine.

Thea reached out a hand but withdrew it almost too quickly for Sara to notice. “Anyhow,” she continued, moving her hand to rest on the bar as if that had been her goal all along, “I don't know whether I'm supposed to look out more for your safety or the safety of the customers.”

Sara cocked her head as she considered the matter. Thea hardly had a clue what she was capable of, besides whatever could be inferred from the obvious change in her demeanor since she had disappeared. “Oh I wouldn't really hurt him,” she told her with a smirk. “Too much paperwork.”

“I hear you know someone at the DA's office who could help you with that,” Thea replied in kind, her eyes twinkling with half-concealed amusement. “In all seriousness, take five if you need to. We're slow tonight so go get some air or something. Hell, take ten if you want.” Her expression turned stern before she added, “No more than that though, or I'll have to dock your pay.”

The slight twitch of her mouth, threatening to turn into a full-blown grin, told Sara that Thea was joking. It wouldn't do to impose upon her goodwill though, even if she couldn't use the tips. “I think I just might duck outside for a few minutes,” she said. “Go clear my head a bit.” And by duck outside and clear her head she meant duck downstairs and beat up the dummies for a few minutes. Better the ones in the basement than the ones on the dance floor. Her mind flitted for a moment to the thought of what Nyssa would do if she saw the way that some of the customers had been treating her.

“Well it looks like you're halfway there,” Thea said, interrupting Sara's train of thought. “See you in a bit.” Thea turned and left without a glance, drawn off by someone calling her name from near the door.

No, that was a train of thought best left derailed. As thankful as she was to have had Nyssa in her life, that part was over now. Getting dragged back in by a wave of nostalgia was dangerous, not least because of the risk of remembering that time as nothing but sunshine and roses. As if on cue one of her old injuries twinged in a ghost of its former pain. Definitely not all sunshine and roses. Glancing around the room to make sure that no one who mattered was watching, Sara darted to the basement door.

Sara had scarcely shut the door behind her when her ears twitched, catching the not so faint strains of music emanating from laptop speakers. Was that...an accordion? And was that Felicity singing? She crept down the stairs just far enough to get a good view of the room. Dig and Oliver were out somewhere, but there Felicity sat at her laptop, tapping away and chair dancing to some music. The song had a nice jaunty beat, reminding her somewhat of various types of Eastern European or Middle Eastern music that she had encountered over the years. There was one thing to say for the life of a world-traveling assassin—she certainly felt more culturally aware than she had before she'd stepped on the Queen's Gambit.

“Been around the world, don't speak the language,” Felicity murmured in unison with the music. “But your booty don't need explaining. All I really need to understand is when you talk dirty to me.”

Sara bit hard on her lip to stop herself from laughing. It wasn't that Felicity was that bad, but rather it was the incongruity of Felicity's innocent demeanor and the words coming out of her mouth. As she moved her hand to cover her mouth her arm jostled her pocket and caught on her knife, dragging it out of her pocket. She cringed as it clattered to the floor, followed a second later by the clatter of Felicity's rolling chair.

“Who's there?” Felicity shouted, whirling around with a pair of scissors in her hand.

Sara stood up and walked down the stairs, arms spread wide in a gesture of surrender. “It's just me,” she said, meeting Felicity at the base of the stairs. “I didn't mean to scare you but I couldn't help myself once I saw you dancing and singing down here. You're really are too cute.”

Felicity glared at Sara and put the scissors down. She crossed her arms over her chest and countered, “You can't call me cute and just expect me to ignore the fact that you're creeping around in the shadows when you know how much I hate that. It was bad enough when it was only Oliver ghosting in and out of here and now you too. Not that I don't want you here because I do. It's nice to have another girl around even though it's not like I was getting double teamed by the guys that often and wow that sounded so much better in my head.”

Sara watched as Felicity shook her head vigorously, reminding her of a puppy shaking the water off of its fur. The part of her mind that was starting to contemplate whether that would be a spaniel or a retriever puppy was quickly subsumed by a sudden but growing realization. Her stomach twisted with nerves, reluctant to put a label on what she was feeling for fear that it would become real and inescapable. She wanted to curse herself for getting blindsided, but it was clear that somewhere along the line she had stopped thinking of Felicity merely as a friend. Sara vividly remembered the first thing that she had said to her, and while it hadn't been a lie, she had said it out of a desire to smooth over what could have been an awkward situation with a bit of levity. Somehow the prospect of casual flirtation with Felicity didn't feel like a joke anymore.

“Earth to Rodin,” Felicity called, breaking through Sara's haze. She waved one hand in front of Sara's face. “What are you thinking in there?”

“Huh?” Sara mumbled, stuck on the thought that this sudden revelation of emotions felt so raw and new. It hadn't been the same with Nyssa, and Oliver was another story altogether. She blinked at Felicity, desperately trying to catch her mind back up to the here and now.

“The sculptor,” Felicity explained, peering at Sara for any sign of comprehension. “Created The Thinker, you know the guy who's sitting there with his head resting on his hand contemplating the great mysteries of life. Or maybe he's thinking about what he's going to have for dinner, I don't really know. Art history was never really my thing so that's about as much as I know without Google.”

“Sure,” Sara replied, vaguely recalling the figure. She looked around the room for some kind of prompt that would give her a safe topic to carry on the conversation. Her eyes landed on one of the computer screens, which still had the music player up from earlier. “So what you were listening to earlier,” she said, “Sounded like klezmer but the words sounded more like something you'd hear upstairs.”

Thankfully Felicity took the bait. “You're half right,” she told her, turning back to the screen and leaning down to tap a few keys to bring up another window with the lyrics. She cocked her head, twirling one hand in indecision. “Though if you're half right on two things wouldn't you be fully right? Anyhow, it's both. A klezmer-ish cover of an R&B song. I think. I've never actually heard the original version. The words aren't really my style, but you have to admit it is pretty catchy like this.” She clicked play and the song resumed.

A long string of unfamiliar words emanated from the speaker, giving way to the chorus in English again. Sara fought hard to focus on the music, determined to wrestle her newly escaped feelings back into place. One downside of making a conscious effort to let people in was that you didn't always get to decide who those people were. Having a family again made it all worth it though, even though those relationships were still works in progress. If the tradeoff for that was having to keep a lid on other emotions, so be it. Despite her best effort, she felt the words of the chorus drawing her eyes back to Felicity, traveling down her body in an unconscious reflex.

The song ended and Felicity, her eyes still on the screen, launched into another report. “Klezmer's actually kind of interesting as a specific genre,” she explained. The words, accompanied by a few distinctive keyboard strokes, barely registered in Sara's mind. “The music has been around in various forms for ages of course, but the music gods or whoever didn't declare it a separate genre until about my lifetime. It's kind of weird that the word itself essentially means musical instrument, 'kli' meaning tool and 'zemer' meaning 'to make music'. I'm not really an aficionado and my Hebrew's rustier than the Tin Man, but I did some intense googling last night. Not that you're really taking in any of this.”

Sara managed to look up just in time, meeting Felicity's gaze as she whirled around to fce her. “Sorry,” she said, thinking up flimsy excuse after flimsy excuse. “My mind was elsewhere.” Not a good excuse, but true enough.

Felicity arched her eyebrows and stared pointedly at her. “Sometimes though I wish it was,” she replied, “My ass is not elsewhere.”

“But—” Sara protested, wondering just how Felicity had noticed.

“Just a little tip for your ninja-assassin arsenal,” Felicity interjected, her expression softening into a satisfied smirk. “Computer screens are reflective, particularly when a black background's involved.”

Sara couldn't help but laugh and shake her head, disappointed in herself for falling into the same trap that many a Starling City resident had. If you underestimated Felicity Smoak you did so at your own peril. “Shit, I'm sorry Felicity,” Sara said, not knowing what else to say. “I know there's no excuse.”

Felicity shrugged. “To be honest,” she confessed, “I'm a little more annoyed that you were skulking around in the shadows when I didn't know that you were here. Once I knew that you were here...well it would be more than a teensy bit hypocritical of me to judge you for staring. I mean it's not like I haven't been distracted a time or two by someone sparring or killing it on the salmon ladder.”

Sara felt the grin bloom on her face, sure that she looked ridiculous. Apparently she hadn't been the only one taking notice. Felicity's implication that she had been distracted by more than just Sara didn't escape her, but it was kind of nice to be free to feel giddy about someone again.

Felicity pouted. “Well you don't have to look _that_ pleased with yourself ” she complained, stepping towards Sara as she gesticulated. “I mean if the power went out for weeks and we didn't have a backup generator I could probably wash my clothes on your abs, but that's no reason to grin at me like the cat that ate the—” she stopped short, blushing more brightly red than Sara thought humanly possible.

“The canary?” Sara suggested, catching the reason for Felicity's blush as soon as the words left her mouth. Oh. She flushed as well, though not with embarrassment. The image of Felicity's body intertwined with hers, hands grabbing for purchase on the sheets as Felicity's tongue traced a lazy path down her stomach...she shook as the thought sent a delicious shiver through her body. Felicity's expectant face, taut with nervousness, dragged her out of the fantasy. She paused for another moment, wondering if it was worth the risk to voice her next thought. “Considering that I'm the Canary,” she reflected, looking off to the side in feigned detachment, “What does that make you?” She tilted her head ever so slightly to bring Felicity back into her line of sight as she watched for any sign of her reaction.

She didn't have long to wait. “Not the only active participant I'd hope,” Felicity blurted out. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as if drawn there by a magnet. “Did I say that out loud?” she mumbled through it. “I'm not saying that you have to or anything, just that it's kind of rude to not reciprocate in some way.” Her hand fell from her mouth as the words tumbled out more clearly. “I wouldn't imagine you to be inconsiderate though. Not that I've imagined you like that.”

Sara felt a rush of confidence thrill through her. Whereas the uncertainty still made Felicity skittish despite her obvious interest, knowing that there was any chance at all erased Sara's doubts, leaving only a vision of the future to entice her nerves. “Felicity,” she stated, trying to cut off Felicity's nervous ramble so that she could reassure her. Felicity carried on, either not hearing her or unable to process that someone was trying to get through to her. Sara took one step closer, brushing aside the thought that Felicity actually looked quite adorable when flustered. It wouldn't do to drag out her apprehension any longer. Sara closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to Felicity's.

Felicity's babble lapsed into a clumsy “ommph” against Sara's mouth. She caught up quickly though, matching Sara's eagerness with her own. As their kiss deepened, Sara trailed one hand along the soft material of Felicity's shirt, delighting in the fact that she was real and this was actually happening. Her tongue slipped inside Felicity's mouth, tasting the citrus remnants of her favorite tea. When the kiss finally broke off their foreheads were left leaning against each other, both clearly reluctant to fully part.

“Give a girl some warning will ya?” Felicity admonished, pulling her head away at last, though only far enough for Sara to see her properly. The apparent sternness of her words was utterly demolished by the unbridled grin on her face.

“What did you expect?” Sara joked, biting her lip in barely restrained happiness that she had made Felicity so happy. “A flashing neon sign? Maybe a skywriting plane?”

“That would do for a start,” Felicity replied, her eyes alight with mirth.

“Well, consider this your warning then,” Sara told her, leaning in for another kiss. Their first kiss had been all deliberate exploration, but this one was making up for lost opportunities. Frantic lips and tongues, hard and fast, no thought spared for life or limb as Felicity took control and pushed Sara back against the nearby table. Sara trusted in Felicity to keep her from falling and let her hands be drawn to the expanse of skin just above the waistline of Felicity's skirt. She was warm and soft and alive, every touch a lifeline against the horrors of the past and those sure to come. The smoldering look in Felicity's eyes urged her onwards, compelling her to run one hand over a spot that she knew to be sensitive on her own side. Her hunch was rewarded with a delicious moan and Felicity raising her own hands up under Sara's shirt.

When she felt her shirt rising up over her bra she reluctantly broke away. “It's not that I don't want you,” Sara explained, punctuating her reluctance with a heavy exhale. “God you don't know how much I'm tempted to throw you on the mat right now and make you scream loud enough for them to hear upstairs.” She gestured between them. “But whatever this is deserves time and space and not some quickie against a makeshift operating table.” She pulled Felicity towards her, holding her gently to forestall any question of how much she cared. “Felicity,” she murmured in her ear, “Don't you doubt for a second. I'm not letting this get away.”

“Good,” Felicity replied, turning to lean against the table side by side with Sara. Their hands found each other, interlacing without a thought. “Neither am I.”  
Sara finally allowed herself to grin. Coming back to Starling City for good was looking ever more like the right move.

“Not that I'm complaining,” Felicity continued, nudging Sara with her shoulder, “But what was it that brought you down here in the first place?”

Sara waved her free hand dismissively. “Doesn't matter anymore,” she answered. “Just some customers who think they can be a little free with their demands and comments. Thea told me to take a break so I thought I'd sneak down here and beat something up.”

Felicity let out a soft grumble so low that it sounded like a growl. “Suppose it would look too suspicious if I showed up to Verdant all fired up and knocked some heads together,” she groused.

“Probably,” Sara replied, returning Felicity's playful nudge. “Unlike the worst of them however, I have something to look forward to tomorrow more than a fuzzy head and an empty wallet.” The buzz of her phone drew her attention away. It was Thea, asking, “You alright?” She frowned at the interruption, though at least Thea wasn't mad that she'd been gone so long. “Duty calls,” she said, pulling her hand away at last. She gave Felicity a quick promising peck on the lips and headed back up to the club.


End file.
